


The Blue Moon of Endor

by latestillusion



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Multi, Mutual Pining, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latestillusion/pseuds/latestillusion
Summary: Han could still get cocksure, concerned, and confused all at the same time; Leia was still his sister; Luke was still the odd one out.There wasn’t any way to fit him into what Han and Leia had found together, no matter how much he wanted it.
Relationships: Leia Organa/Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 75
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	The Blue Moon of Endor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambiguously](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/gifts).



“You realize this is the first time the three of us have all been in the same place since about a month after the war ended?” Han said. He stretched out his feet, wriggling his toes in the direction of the fire. “If somebody didn’t know better, they might think you were trying to avoid them.”

Luke smiled. “I guess it’s a good thing for me that you both know better, then.”

There was a spicy scent coming up from the fire, like some weird variety of wild honey, mixed with the the sourly meaty smell of some carnivorous bloom burning in its buds.

Han rolled over onto his side. In the flickering orange light, his face looked creased with concern, shadows jumping all around him: he looked unfamiliar, and that was better, probably, for Luke’s state of mind. The Han and Leia he knew were the ones he’d had to run away from. Maybe with strangers, everything would be different.

Then Han said, “You know, now that I think about it, maybe I don’t,” and just like that, Luke knew nothing had changed. Han could still get cocksure, concerned, and confused all at the same time; Leia was still his sister; Luke was still the odd one out.

There wasn’t any way to fit him into what Han and Leia had found together, no matter how much he wanted it.

 _Be a friend,_ Luke reminded himself. _Be a brother. They’re good things to be, even if they’re not what you were hoping for._

“Maybe you don’t what?” Leia said, coming out of the tent with an armful of kindling for the fire. She tossed each piece in carefully, her eyes on the wood instead of on them.

She’d changed her hair since the last time Luke had seen her—plaited it and crisscrossed the plaits. It looked good—obviously—and even better now that it was nighttime and it was coming undone a little, frizzing around the bands that held it up, letting little wisps loose to brush against her forehead. And he was really kidding himself if he tried to think it was fine to notice all these things about a woman who was supposed to be his sister—that it was innocent as could be as long as he didn’t let himself think about her body. Or her husband.

“I don’t know,” Han said. He turned back over onto his back and laced his hands behind his head. “Maybe I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” she said dryly.

“You hear how she talks to me?” Han said to Luke. “You’re the Jedi knight; defend me.”

“Deflating your ego every now and then is a necessary part of living with you,” Leia said.

“Oh, every now and then, okay. I thought I was describing something that happened every time I turned around, but clearly I was wrong.” Han sat up and wrapped his arms around Leia’s thighs, nuzzling up against her; she put her hand in his hair.

They broke the embrace earlier than Luke had expected; he hadn’t made himself look away yet. They were all just watching each other in the dark.

Leia said, “Anyway, whatever Han was saying, I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Wouldn’t be Endor without you,” Han agreed. He stretched out again, looking up at the stars. “Parties and good booze and Ewoks all roasting us over fires like sausages—I’m sure that’s everywhere here tonight. But not this. Not us.”

Leia undid the straps on her boots and took her place on the blanket, but not where Luke would have expected her to—not on the other side of Han or even between the two of them. She put him in the middle instead, lying down over on his left.

“This is nice,” Leia said.

“Nice?” Han said. “I gave a whole speech.”

“Yours included cannibalism,” Luke pointed out. “Maybe less is more.”

On either side of him, Han and Leia were painted in warm colors, the cream of Han’s shirt turned tallow-yellow in the firelight and Leia’s eyes dusky and dark.

“I don’t understand why you have to study the Force somewhere far away from us,” Leia said.

“Yeah, I thought the big selling point of this whole Force idea was that it’s supposed to be everywhere.” Han gestured up at the stars to make his point and then let his hand fall back down; it landed just a little on Luke’s, Han’s fingers overlapping with his.

Luke didn’t know if it would be worse to move or to not move. He almost couldn’t remember what it was like to not care one way or the other whether or not they were touching him.

“The Force is everywhere,” Luke said lightly. “My ability to concentrate, on the other hand—I’m just glad I found a quiet world that’s not a swamp like Dagobah.”

“I hate swamps,” Han said, wrinkling his nose. “I hate the smells. This place smells good.”

“It does,” Leia said. “Better than I remember, anyway.”

Luke said, “I think it’s the fire.” He could feel it: there was an unusual _density_ to the connection between it and the three of them, between this moment and everything before and after it. There was sweat on the palm of Han’s hand, a drop of it like a shock of electricity against Luke’s skin.

He’d probably be better off getting away from it. Away from them. Like always. He slipped his hand out from underneath Han’s, and Han made a low, pained sound, like some kind of hurt animal. Then he winced, embarrassed, and pressed his knuckles against his forehead like he was trying to hold himself together.

“Sorry, kid. I get carried away sometimes.”

Luke didn’t know what to make of that, really. He just smiled and shrugged: _Sure, it’s okay_.

He was hyperaware of every fiber touching his bare skin. He ran one hand down the length of his side, and his whole body seemed to hum.

He knew he wanted them, and he knew there had been nights when that wanting had felt about as unbearable as anything could get, nights when missing them had tugged at him worse than any phantom pain from his hand; all that, sure, but he still thought this was maybe something else. He usually only had to worry about looking at them for too long, not grabbing Han’s hand and bringing it back to him just to put it on his cock.

“I think you’re right, Luke,” Leia said slowly. “I think it is the fire. I think we—burned something we shouldn’t have.”

“ _Burn_ is the word for it, that's for sure,” Han said.

“Then both of you—”

“Oh, yeah,” Han said, shifting. “I think we, ah—we should—” He sucked in a deep breath. “We should really look into fixing that.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Leia said. She stood up, the rounded, muscular curves of her thighs suddenly the part of her Luke could most easily see; she strode around him to Han and straddled his lap, leaning down to kiss him.

Luke could feel them—hunger and history and longing. He could feel the pressure of their bodies against each other, the way Leia’s knees were so tight against Han that she was bruising him, the way Han was raising himself up into her kiss. And he saw himself reach out to them, like they could all be swept up in this together, like the smoke would cloud all the reasons he couldn’t have what he wanted. He could. At least right now, he could.

He stumbled up and moved away from them and the heat of the fire. He turned his back to what was happening.

Some things, you just couldn’t fix. Not every part came together to make a whole.

Not that all the good intentions in the galaxy would do anything for what he was feeling now. Every square inch of his untouched skin ached; his cock worst of all, obviously, like nobody had told it he was supposed to be a Jedi, supposed to have control over this sort of thing. Not that he’d been planning on celibacy, really—not that he’d had a lot of opportunities to either take or renounce—

He was fumbling with the buttons on his pants; he kept his mind on other things, like if he ran it souped-up on some kind of frittering automatic pilot, it’d burn out his circuits before he could think anything he shouldn’t.

Then someone touched him, and instead of jumping in shock, his whole body seemed to lean into the unseen hand, curving around it, relaxing, falling.

“Oh, Luke,” Leia said. She was in front of him suddenly, her hands cupping his face, her eyes wide and dark. “Is that it? You don’t have to go away.”

“No.” Han was holding onto them both: one hand clumsily grabbing the back of Luke’s neck, the other on Leia’s shoulder. His pants were unbuttoned, and the leather laces of his shirt had been stretched far apart, showing a wide bronze triangle of skin. “You should stay.”

“It’s just whatever’s in the fire—”

“You should stay forever,” Han said firmly, and he kissed Luke: he had a burn like cheap ale, the kind that knocked you down. He broke away, not looking sorry for it.

“The only part he’s sorry about is how long it took us,” Leia said. Luke didn’t know if she was reading him or Han or both, but he flushed, feeling like even his mouth was turning red with shame—his sister, her husband—but Leia just shook her head. She said, “It’s the only part I’m sorry for too, Luke. Whatever else we are, we should be this. All three of us. Can’t you feel that?”

“I thought you’d—” _Be horrified. Freeze me out. Feel sorry for me._

Han said, “That’s your problem, kid. You need to stop thinking.” He kissed him again, letting his hands tangle in Luke’s hair.

Stop thinking.

Luke kissed Leia next, impossibly, feeling the smoothness of her lips and the sheer unvarnished _demand_ of her, feeling every unslaked thirst she’d ever had. She tasted clean and tart, like the berries they’d found on Hoth, unearthed beneath all the snow; all that bright unlikeliness. She was tearing at his clothes. They were both doing that—they were _all_ doing that, he was doing it with them, to them. Until there was nothing between them at all.

He’d imagined this so many times, always choking the dream off before it could get any further than this, this split-second image of the three of them naked and together.

Nothing was stopping now. He couldn’t imagine walking away from this; he couldn’t imagine his body letting him. It was a relief to not have any control, to not have to have it. All he had to do was stay and not think.

Leia lay down on the blanket, opening her legs, and Luke knelt between them. He couldn’t do this—but they were closer to the fire, closer to the smell of the burning blossoms, and he could do whatever they all wanted. He lowered himself down and licked up into her body, losing himself to the sharp tang of her. He hadn’t done this before, not with a woman, and he knew he was clumsy with it, but Leia didn’t seem to mind. Her thighs squeezed against him; she tugged at his hair, steering his mouth. He could hear the sounds she was making, husky little cries that came from low in her throat.

Han stroked Luke’s sides and his back, his mouth against Luke’s shoulder, biting him.

“Dammit, you taste so good,” Han said roughly. “I knew you would. _We_ knew it.” He leaned forward, his warm weight on Luke’s back, and Luke heard something happening above his head, something between Han and Leia—and then Han was running wet, slick fingers in shivery tracks over Luke’s ass.

Luke groaned into Leia—the reverberation of the sound against her skin made her cry out—and put his knees as far apart as he could.

Leia said, “Come on, Luke,” and there was laughter in her voice—laughter and a challenge. He could jut imagine the glint in her dark eyes. “Make me come before you lose all your focus.”

He licked gently against her clit and raised his head, taking in the sight of her flushed and naked, her nipples stiff, her belly a soft and gentle curve; he wanted her to see the shine of her on his lips. For the moment, at least, none of this felt wrong or impossible—it seemed impossible for it all _not_ to work out, as well as it was going now. The blood that was between them was the blood beating in their veins right now, after all, and everything in him, every cell of him, wanted this, wanted all of it. They did too.

They were shimmering, melting together; their separate signatures in the Force were blurring into one.

“Absolutely, General,” he said, and he grinned as the words made Leia arch. He couldn’t deny that they did the same thing to him, either, really.

He went back to her, to the silky feeling of her spread cunt against his lips and tongue, and it was when he moaned again—when Han finally sank into him—that he felt her shake against his mouth, the taste of her stronger and better than ever.

She’d been the focus holding him together, and now all he could think about was how much he needed something, anything—he needed someone to touch his cock. He reached for it himself, but Leia nudged his hand away with her foot.

“We’ve got you,” she said, as comforting as it was possessive. “Han?”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Han said, and with a little grunt, he changed positions, pulling Luke upright even as he leaned back on his elbows, so he was half-reclined and Luke was just _sitting_ on his cock, his own on full display for Leia.

He felt blood heating his face. Leia’s hand against his cheek was unexpectedly cool.

She straddled him, easing down onto his cock, and it took everything he had—he was clenching his jaw so tightly he was surprised his teeth didn’t crack under the pressure—not to come then and there. She barely moved, fucking herself on him slowly and unbearably sweetly. She’d reached down and was holding Han’s hands, their fingers interlaced.

The air was clear now, the night bright and starry without a veil of smoke to hide it. The air had been clear for a while, and it hadn’t mattered.

Leia rested her forehead against his, and Luke could feel her—and through her, Han and their whole life together, the life that they had always wanted him to be a part of, the bed that Han had bought, without saying why, to be big enough to fit three.

Time didn’t matter. He could hear Han thinking, _I just want them both around for good—don’t know what the hell these two have done to me, I’m going to make a fool out of myself_. He saw Leia looking out a window like she could part the sky all the way to him; she was thinking what she’d always known and what she’d always wanted had to meet in the middle somewhere—if he’d only come back.

He hadn’t known any of that. He buried his face against Leia’s neck, breathing in the smell of her hair, which still held a little of the woodsmoke but mostly just smelled like soap and clean sweat. And he thought that it was on him to move—literally and symbolically—so he did, letting go of all the doubts he’d held so close for the last year. He fucked himself on Han’s cock, driving himself forward into Leia, who was pushing back against him just as hard, taking and demanding all at the same time.

When he came, it was with Han’s hands bruising his hips and Leia’s mouth against his, catching the sound he made, like it was something too filthy to let out in the open air.

After that, it was only another minute or two before it was all over and all of them were too spent to even move.

It was cooler now, since the fire had burned down. A few strands of Leia’s hair were matted to Luke’s face, and sweat was shining on Han’s chest, making him shiver a little whenever a breeze passed over them.

Han said finally, “The important thing to focus on here is that I was right.”

“Obviously,” Leia said.

“No, no, you weren’t there. I was telling Luke that I thought he was avoiding us, and he was. And you always say I’m so bad with people.”

“I uprooted everything and moved to a system in the middle of nowhere,” Luke said. “I don’t know how hard it was to figure out.”

“You were saying you weren’t avoiding us, though!”

“Sure, but I’m a bad liar.”

“Unbelievable.” Han turned over and flopped an arm over Leia, stretching until he could curve his fingers around Luke’s bicep. “Now all that’s going to come out of this is I’ll have you both ganging up on me.”

What Han meant, he knew, was, _Will you stay?_ And past the hangover headache from the smoke and the glorious, hard-earned exhaustion of the sex and the exhilaration and tenderness of having the two of them, after everything, exactly where he’d always wanted them—past all that, Luke didn’t know how any of this would work. But that wasn’t new. You started with hope before you got into strategy and tactics. If it was good enough for the Rebellion, it was good enough for him.

He rolled to lie against Leia’s shoulder, where he could put his leg across her to warm her up a little. He ran his thumb over one of Han’s eyebrows, feeling it arch up underneath him.

Luke said, like a promise, “I think we’ll probably all gang up on each other sometimes.”


End file.
